The Abysmal Game
by Imraldera
Summary: Molly recruits Sherlock to help her solve a mystery that has plagued her for years.


_I must have written this years ago and forgotten about it. I stumbled across it the other day and it still made me smile, so I thought I might as well share it._

 _I have a not-so-secret addiction to the Nancy Drew computer game series, and it made me wonder what Sherlock would think of them. Sadly, I do not own Nancy Drew, Sherlock, or any other of the great detective characters in fiction._

* * *

"Backstory is so tiresome, Molly! You never get backstory in real life."

"Shh! I'm concentrating." Molly leaned in to turn up the computer speakers.

Sherlock watched the screen with narrowed eyes and muttered complaints under his breath. Molly, evidently completely entranced by the most boring mystery game on the planet, ignored him.

"It's him," Sherlock suddenly declared, pointing to the screen. "He's the murderer. It's plain as day."

Molly finally shifted her attention from the screen to glare at him. "There's no way you could know that."

"He had the motive and the means! And his eyebrows are more expressive, which means that when his evil character is 'revealed,' he will be able to give a more menacing expression."

"Yeah, but that's not proof," Molly returned calmly, continuing to click away in the game screen.

"I don't care. I've won your game, so I'd like my phone back now." Sherlock extended his hand and wiggled his fingers, waiting for Molly to reveal the treasured mobile, its absence and promised return the only reason he had endured such torture for so long.

Molly, however, did nothing but settle back in her chair. "You didn't win. Winning means the final credits play and you get a sneak peek at the next game."

"I solved the case!" Sherlock protested. "That is equivalent to winning the game! You're just arguing semantics at this point, Molly."

Molly's only response was to turn up the volume yet again.

Sherlock glowered at the screen. "And I already know where my phone is, so this is all pointless."

"Oh." Molly frowned. "Then you must know that your mobile has gone on John and Mary's weekend trip to Glasgow?"

Sherlock was suddenly overcome with the sinking certainty that Molly's innocent tone belied a scheming mind of masterful proportions.

"Molly… you couldn't."

Molly tucked her hands behind her head, the picture of perfect innocence.

"You wouldn't."

She smiled.

Sherlock sighed. "You did." His phone had gone on holiday without him.

"Cheer up." Molly chirped in an annoyingly perky tone, patting his cheek before turning back to her game. "John promised he'd phone if a real emergency came up. You'll be fine."

"You did this to me." Sherlock's face settled into a frown. "Why did you do this to me, Molly? Why?" His voice took on a pleading tone. "Have I ever done something horrible like this to you?"

"Erm," Molly paused the game and adopted a thoughtful expression. "Except for last week when you almost had my phone cremated so I would help you with a case?"

"That was a one-time—"

"Or how about the time you had Mycroft lock my phone up in top security until I finished the autopsy for the Kitzingen case?"

"Molly, it was a special circumstance! He was a serial killer, if you'll recall, and—"

"Oh, or how about my favorite?" Molly interrupted again. "When you actually managed to have my phone buried at Mrs. Lewis' funeral? That one was fun to explain. Do you think my mum believed me when I told her I didn't call her back about her dinner invitation because my phone was literally six feet under?" She narrowed her eyes at Sherlock. "Did you know the undertaker told me he can still hear it ringing sometimes? Ugh." She shuddered.

"Come now, Molly, that's nothing more than an urban legend," Sherlock said, shifting guiltily in the uncomfortable folding chair that had been wedged in next to Molly's computer. It must be admitted that when the Jaws theme started playing as the coffin was lowered into the grave, several family members had been sent into absolute hysterical fits.

"Still. You owe me."

"Is this nothing more than a simple case of revenge?"

"That," Molly started the game up again. "And I've been trying to solve this game for two years. I refuse to look online for the spoilers, so I figured you might help me out a bit."

"But, but—!" Sherlock sputtered and pointed at the screen. "It's him!"

Molly ignored him, returning her attention to the would-be villain with the menacingly expressive eyebrows. "He says he'll give us the key if we catch twenty fish. How good are you with fishing?"

Sherlock heaved a sigh. It was going to be a long afternoon.


End file.
